storm...

I stood there in the kitchen, slicing strawberries for a sweet boy who insisted they taste better that way. Fighting the urge to insist back that they taste exactly the same either way because I knew that wasn't what he meant. That the image he'll keep of me taking the time to do that was far more important than whatever it was I thought I was in a hurry to do.

Bright, early day sunlight, fresh strawberries, already so hot we don't even consider venturing out, the most handsome little face standing eagerly beside me with a bowl. That is our day before Summer Solstice.

The early light, coming in through windows facing both north and south, was in a startling instant, gone. So startling that it took a moment before I could even process where the light had gone. A storm so sudden and fierce and dark, that sent birds flying from trees, that blocked the light that had just been there, and was over so quickly I went to the window to prove to myself that the ground was, indeed, wet.

Two years here and I am still so surprised and confused by the weather. I find myself counting raindrops like they are coins...hoping I can save them. Wishing I could spend them when the green starts to fade.

The ground seemed to dry almost as fast as the storm appeared. But a few drops lingered on roses that need pruned, on new leaves that are most assuredly as grateful for the rain as I am.

Proof that I didn't dream this.